


what a tiefling wants

by fruitbattery



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Other, Sappy, Stream of Consciousness, pure fluff, they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 02:40:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17696066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruitbattery/pseuds/fruitbattery
Summary: Molly loves a lot of things that Caleb does.





	what a tiefling wants

**Author's Note:**

> I want you all to know that the title of the document I wrote this in (no beta, at midnight) is "horn horn baguette"

Molly loves the moments when Caleb reaches for their hand. Grocery shopping, driving, reading on the couch, these are all moments when Caleb will, inevitably, absentmindedly entwine their fingers. His hands are smooth and graceful, skin on the dry side but smooth, fingers long and dextrous and strong enough to make Molly feel very, very secure. It had taken a while for both of them to feel comfortable holding hands in public, but now they both can’t get enough of it. Molly’s hands are always warmer than Caleb’s, so his cooling presence is welcome on hot days. No matter the outside temperature, though, Molly is always grateful for the contact.

Another of Molly’s favorite things is kissing. Caleb’s lips cool against theirs, crammed into a closet or lazily on the bed, small pecks or deep, searching kisses, there’s just something about it that turns Molly to jelly. They love a cool hand in their hair, nails scratching their scalp, sending tingles through their lower back and only intensifying the need for _more_ and _harder_ and for the inevitable moment when they end up on their back under a _very_ attentive Caleb.

Molly especially loves how attentive Caleb is. It’s no secret that they love being the center of a crowd, turning on whatever charm they have for a few coins flung into one of their ridiculous hats, but it just does _something_ to them to have the attention of such a focused, brilliant man turned entirely on them. Caleb has it down to a science, now, the way he takes them apart. One hand firmly on their waist, thumbnail scraping along the bottom of their rib cage. A sweet kiss to just the point where their clavicle becomes their neck, turning into a sucking sensation and then the hard edge of teeth. Fingernails on the back of their head, carding through their hair, and whispers in their ear in Caleb’s thick accent, made heavier with arousal. (they’re doing so well, aren’t they, just be good a little longer…) accompanied by a finger tracing down their spine, a sudden hand grasping their ass and sitting there. A few minutes of carefully hitting each button and Molly’s brain slowly starts to liquify and pour, syrupy, out of their ears, joining the occasional tear on the pillow. They love when higher speech leaves them temporarily, replaced with sighs and gasps, hitched breaths and _please_ s and little whimpering moans. The first brush of Caleb’s finger over their tightening jeans is always as sweet as his bees’ honey, almost as sweet as when they kiss it off his lips. Sweeter still is the picture of Caleb above them, panting, flushed and sweaty but concentrating very intently. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth at these moments, Molly notices once, and thereafter finds themself inappropriately horny whenever Caleb reads an especially interesting book in their presence.

Molly loves it when Caleb keeps them on the edge for a long time, not even touching them directly so much as ghosting his own wetness lightly over them repeatedly until he seems on the verge of begging himself. He never does, though, preferring to reach down and pull Molly’s hand towards him, sliding their fingers into him. (They keep their first three claws trimmed for such an occasion, and they know that he knows this.) First one finger, then two, a thumb rubbing at his dick, then a third, and Molly is all the harder for feeling Caleb’s wetness on their own exposed cock. Sometimes Caleb will lean down and kiss them, and the change in angle will cause their wrist to brush against their cock, and they’ll see stars. Sometimes Caleb, beautiful Caleb, will make his way up the bed and set himself firmly on their face, leaving Molly no means of release as their world narrows to Caleb and his taste.

(That taste that really is sweeter than honey.)

Sometimes, Caleb will finally, finally wrap his hand around Molly, or his lips, or on some blessed occasions his cunt, and even Molly’s baser noises will leave them. Their mouth sticks in a permanent O and their head tosses back, overwhelmed instantly, as the edge approaches with alarming speed and they crest, crest, convulsing a little… Caleb keeps going after that, sometimes, Molly’s hips jerking weakly at the touch. Those times, they tend to get their voice back, crying out as if in pain, but their color when Caleb asks is _green, green, please dear God green, ngh!_ If Caleb can’t wrench another orgasm out of them at this point, it’s not for lack of trying, maneuvering around their twitching limbs and trying not to succumb to their pleas for _no more, oh God._

Eventually though, inevitably in fact, a different wave comes crashing down, and with it both of their eyelids. Caleb will come back from the bathroom with a warm cloth, gently cleaning Molly up and smiling when they twitch or groan a little in response. Molly lays their head in his lap, or on his shoulder, or curls up in the curve of his body, and falls asleep quickly to the feeling of a miraculously still-cool hand in their hair and murmured words of praise and endearment in their ear.

Molly likes a lot of things, but their very, very favorite is being held by the one they love.


End file.
